We Don't Talk About Mycroft
by TheAlmightyCupcake
Summary: John finds a photo of Sherlock and another gentlemen that he finds out later to be his older brother. there was a reason why Sherlock had never brought him up There was a reason why Sherlock wanted to avoid a conversation about him at all costs And now John has made a mistake A mistake that forces Sherlock to relive everything


"It's about bloody time," John stated, carrying boxes out of his way.

He was finally glad to see that the apartment, once cluttered with mess, was now about to be cleaned.

"Oh come on," Sherlock replied. "The flat's not that messy."

"Sherlock," John said. "I was barely able to walk through the place without tripping over."

"That's a matter of your impairment of motor skills, not placements of my belongings."

John rolled his eyes, picking his way through a couple of Sherlock's boxes trying to find a place to put them. Inside a dusty box John saw a picture of a younger Sherlock with a gentleman that has some slight resemblance to the man.

"Hey Sherlock," John asked, lifting up the photo for him to see. "Who's this?"

Sherlock didn't look up to acknowledge John's finding but waved his hand away. "If they're random photos ignore those. Just throw them—l"

"No Sherlock," John said. "_Look_."

Finally, Sherlock looked up. It wasn't long before he stared at the picture with recognition…but not nostalgia, even though the charming image would warrant so. "I…didn't know I still had that." He stated in a low whisper.

"Is that you? Who's the guy standing next to you?" John asked in a sudden elated curiosity that made Sherlock roll his eyes.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said with the relenting of the fact that he knew that John wouldn't let up if he didn't say who it was. He said the name quick, breathing it out once he said it as if he had felt relief to finally state what John's nagging questions would have continued to prod at. "Give it to me."

"Mycroft? That's your older brother?" John asked in shock as his name came up in the conversation, ignoring Sherlock's request to have the picture in his hands.

"Yes. Now, the photo?" Sherlock still had his hands outstretched for it.

John wanted to keep looking at the picture. "Where—."

"He is older than me by 7 years. It was only me and him after our parents died." Sherlock added, obviously trying to go into the least amount of detail as possible. "We didn't get along he's currently working for the government. We haven't spoken to one another in years. That basically answers every single question you were about to think of asking now will you please hand me the photo?"

"How come you never brought him up?" John asked, staring at the picture seeing their happy faces as he handed the photo back to Sherlock.

Receiving the photo in his hand after many requests, Sherlock spoke slowly in a manner in which it became apparent that he wanted to dismiss the subject. "I never talk about my brother."

"How come?" John asked.

Sherlock stared at him with a slight annoyance.

"Sibling rivalry?" John joked, trying to lighten the sudden irritated look that Sherlock had.

Sherlock's eyes became distant and he replied "…yeah."

The two had kept cleaning after looking at more silly photos from his childhood. It wasn't long until Sherlock got tired of the subject and ended up leaving the rest of the job for John. That night while John was trying to get some extra cleaning time in, he noticed something in the trash. It was the picture of Mycroft and Sherlock, ripped into pieces.

The next day, the two met up with Greg for another request for a case. It was then that Sherlock had left in order to go use the restroom.

It was then that the shorter man thought to asked Greg a question. John had looked up at Greg. "Hey when was the last time Mycroft and Sherlock spoke?"

Greg looked at him as if he had misheard the question. "Come…again?"

"I was just wondering," John said. "When was the last time Mycroft and Sherlock spoke?"

Suddenly, John could noticed the other man turning pale, eyes widening in surprise and panic as he glanced around the room to see if anyone had heard what John had said. He seemed to become relax when no one seemed to notice. "He… had told you about Mycroft?"

"No," John replied incredulously, half excited that Greg knew something of the matter and half curious as to Greg's strange reaction to the inquiry at hand. Surely asking such a simple question couldn't be offensive to the pain that Greg felt uncomfortable…could it? "I…I've been asking everyone and no one seems to know or want to tell me."

Greg leaned closer to John, eyes filling with concern. "John," he said. "Just leave it alone."

"What?" John exclaimed. "Why?"

"You're getting into matters that you don't understand. Just leave it alone."

John was about to protest but the sincerity in the other man's voice made him reconsider. Maybe he really was going into something he had no business going into. Maybe for once, it would be better if he didn't interfere. Maybe if he just left it alone it would benefit rather than harm Sherlock; John decided to stop asking for Sherlock's sake.

John nodded and left with Sherlock when he returned.

The thought of Sherlock's older brother kept nagging at the back of his mind however.

A few days later, Sherlock had been shot while working on a case. It was nothing serious. In fact, he was said to make a full recovery but it didn't stop the shorter man from worrying as he sat by the bed.

Deciding to leave Sherlock's bedside to go and try to do more research on the person that had shot him, he had bumped into someone in the hallway. It was a gentleman of tall stature and stern expression.

"Is this Sherlock Holmes's room?" the man asked him, suddenly smiling in a way that made John suddenly trust him. There was something about this particular curve of the lip that made him trustworthy. John couldn't pinpoint the reason why as he stared back at the other gentleman. Then he realized why. The man that stood before him was Mycroft Holmes. He could tell by his smile—it resembled the picture so well.

"Mycroft Holmes?" John asked as he offered his hand for a shake. The man shook his head and nodded.

"Are you a friend of his?" Mycroft asked back as he nodded.

"Yes." Then he added. "Well I consider us to be."

"Delightful," Mycroft replied even though no one could swear on its authenticity.

John then left the hospital, taking a cab back to their flat and lying down on the couch. It was then that he heard a doorbell ring and he got up to answer it. It was Greg.

"Hello Greg," he said, dragging out his words to express his obvious confusion. Greg wasn't prone to visiting the apartment though the particular reason that he decided to this time around was obvious. He was also worried for the detective.

"Where is Sherlock?" Greg replied without even acknowledging his greeting. "Is he alright?"

"Yes." John motioned for the other gentleman to walk in which he did, but held a stature of someone who had been in a hurry and one person who held no intentions of staying. He could tell by his movements that he was in a rush so he quickly said the explanation "I visited him at the hospital today. He'll be perfectly fine…make a full recovery."

Greg nodded, obviously pleased with the news. "He's lucky to have a friend like you," he then said smiling. "I can't think of anyone that would want to visit him so late this night."

"Really? I wasn't the only one." John said.

Greg's face creased with confusion. "What do you mean by that John?"

John looked at him, face matching the other man's confusion. "His older brother…he visited Sherlock."

"Who…did?" Greg asked in a hushed whisper.

"Mycroft's his name right? He visited Sherlock right when I was leaving his room."

"Why did you let Mycroft go in there?" Greg suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" John asked, in such an innocent confusion. "What's wrong?"

Greg's pounded a near wall. "Answer the question!"

"What is it? Calm down!"

"John," he said, voice deep with dread. "Why did you let Mycroft in there…with Sherlock?"

"Why? Because it's his bleeding brother!" John stared at him incredulously. John's furry grew as he watched Lestrade tighten his fists. "Good Lord, Does no one want them to mend their relationship?!"

John's angry subsided however, when Greg turned to look at him. "John..." Greg said, noticeably on the verge of weeping. "You don't understand. You just don't understand." Greg repeated it over to himself as he leaned his head against the door, banging it over and over again until. His distraught was obvious and John felt a deep sinking feeling within the depths of his pounding chest. Then he said. "I have to go." Greg rushed for the door in a haste, only to be stopped by John's sudden and unexpected grip.

"Greg!" John screamed. "Take it easy okay?"

"John, let go of me!" he grunted.

A realization finally hit John. If no one was willing to talk about what had happened to Sherlock and Mycroft, then it must have been something terribly bad. "Greg…" He whispered through his sudden distress. "What did Mycroft do to Sherlock?"

Greg began to moan in pain and squeezed out, "Sh…sherlock's older brother…" his held in his breath as if that was the only thing he could to stop himself from vomiting. John's heart start to quicken with fear of the words that were to come out of Greg's quivering mouth. "He had been molesting him ever since their parents died."

John felt a feeling of dread wash over him and he felt the blood drain from his face.

John gasped, joining Greg in the run in the hallway. If only john knew what had happened. If only someone had told him. If only John knew that he would be responsible for the reason why Sherlock was now trapped in the room with his childhood tormentor.

They arrived at the hospital; neither of the men were in the room.


End file.
